Forgotten
by LolaStolaColaOla
Summary: She'd failed her people once. She was the only one that knew it all, the only one that could see completely through his guise. The only one that could and would do something. Kabuto was not a scot-free man. Warning: contains... rude awakenings.


**Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto**

 **Warning: This story contains mild sexual themes.**

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There are those who forgive…

And there are those who don't. There are those who will never forget...

And then there are those who try to erase it all and move on. That wasn't Anko Mitarashi.

There were those who despised those who claimed to have 'changed'. **That** was Anko Mitarashi.

She'd never quite understood the man. Even back in their not-so-long-ago olden days when she'd see him prowling about in Orochimaru's lairs and 'storage' rooms: always so quiet, calm, calculating. But even back then, every time she'd stop by Orochimaru's hideouts as an undercover spy for the sake of the Leaf, she was always able to tell that Orochimaru's lackey was deadly. Valuable. Someone of serious potential chaos. But later she'd found he was more than that. She'd been able to see parts of him that perhaps no one else ever had the 'privilege' of seeing before. And now, years later, as she caught sight of him yet again walking along the streets of Konoha, keeping to himself, she noted for the hundredth time with disdain how... harmless he appeared.

Under the shade of the dango shop she lounged under, she watched unnoticed as the man went about his business, walking past and seeming to ignore the weary, cautious looks of a few of the villagers he strolled by. Nothing in his body language, nothing, even began to indicate hate or a plan of destruction.

But Anko was not fooled. And she knew she'd be damned if she let any of this go on much longer. She'd grown tired of trying to ignore it all. She was tired of acting as if he were non-existent as the former snake apprentice pretended to help console back to health the orphaned children of her village. Whether Kabuto had a plan up his sleeve or not made no difference whatsoever. She would not keep standing from a hidden distance as if _nothing_ had happened.

As if none of the war or anything in their past had even occured.

The other villagers may have been able to hide most of their disgust and true hatred for the trouble makers of the 4th Shinobi World War. And she herself could partially understand their behavior: She couldn't honestly care less about the Uchiha brat, Sasuke...

She even admitted to herself that she could tolerate Orochimaru's presence in the village, from a very, very far away distance. At least her old creepy snake sensei had found the gall to apologize to her shortly after the war had ended. Apologize to her for everything. Of course she didn't _forgive_ him, but at least the Sanin snake bastard had the decency to lurk in the shadows for the most part nowadays. No one would ever catch the snake man out and about. Anko knew he'd kept his face mostly hidden out of respect for Konoha.

But Kabuto Yakushi? Oh no, no, when he wasn't walking quietly alongside the streets to get groceries for the orphanage, he was as plain as day in the sunlight, handing out frickin' lollipops and buying dango on the house for the little snot nosed brats who'd lost their moms and dads to the war… the war that he'd played a major role in causing.

It was laughable.

And yet, in the eyes of every other idiotic villager, it seemed that Kabuto had truly 'changed', acting like someone Anko knew he was not. He couldn't be. And it sickened her more than anything else had the capacity to do. Anko knew...

Kabuto was _still_ just as twisted, and undoubtedly, even more so than she was, and that hadn't changed. No matter how many costumes she saw him wearing everytime she'd spot him nowadays. Just because the rouge Uchiha that he'd reincarnated managed to stop him in his tracks for a good several hours, thus defeating him during the war, none of that had truly meant that Yakushi had suddenly been 'reborn'. He had not! He never had and he never _would_ be changed.

Oh no, no, no. She knew that for a fact.

It was all so very, very funny.

So hilarious that a year had already passed and Kabuto was still running -had even become the director- of that lovely orphanage of his. How much longer would it be before word reached everyone that those poor children had all been turned into sickening lab experimentations created to lead the village to its demise?

Her stomach ached with how hard she'd just laughed herself nearly to tears with the absurd realization that it had already been a year since their fight during the war. A year since the war. A year since she still hadn't done anything. Anything.

Oh, but good plans came to the patient mind, even the slightly insane, beautifully broken minds. As she stood in the shadows of night a dark giggle, somewhat tainted with insanity left her throat as her eyes watched the dark red droplets fall in a steady rhythm from the pierced palm of her hand to the misty grass she stood in. She vowed.

She'd failed her people once. She was the only one that knew it all, the only one that could see completely through his guise. The only one that could and would do something. Kabuto was not a scott-free man.

...

There are those who strike in broad day-light, and those who slay in the dark. Both were Anko Mitarashi's style.

But in this case it would be the latter.

The place actually hadn't been as cliché gloom and doom as she'd expected it to be. But it was still painfully close. The night was silent and only the sounds of the wind as well as the soft tapping of tree branches against the windows of the place could be heard. Well, that and the soft breathing of all the orphaned children that filled the large sleeping quarters. The setting made Anko want to shiver. With excitement, or disgust, she could not decipher.

She was sure it was a mixture of both when she'd finally found him. But it hadn't taken long. She'd just been surprised to find him in one of the beds amongst the long rows of beds occupied by knocked out children. His body lay limply in a bed of his own. Deciding to ignore the oddness of his place of slumber, Anko moved. She barely even took in the time to register his peaceful, sleeping face. The curves of his facial features were slightly obscured and further paled by the moonlight, yet it didn't hide all of the oddly delicate details there, but instead the moon's glow complimented them. She, also decided that the moon's illumination further brought out the sexiness of her kunai. The metal's gleam competed with the flash of a pair of glasses that sat on the small stand near his bed she now sat on.

She'd almost grown bored of her silent observing, but wondered how much longer she'd be amused by the fact that Kabuto was a heavy, heavy sleeper. Even after she'd taken a wrist and more than easily knotted it to the dingy little head board of the bed's small frame. She was debating on whether or not she should do the same to the other or simply slice it off as a kinder wake up call, before that free hand was gripping her other wrist in a vice-like grasp. But her kunai had already slipped from that hand to her other and she pushed it with a steady hold against his throat.

Why did she find his very first expression so amusing?

He'd blinked several times, his bad eyes peering up at the woman above him. They shifted quite slowly to the side to glance at the immobile arm above his head. His grip on her arm didn't slacken. "Pardon the questioning, but what do you think you're doing?"

The old reserved approach was how it was going to be played, now was it? How endearing.

She grinned. "Well, nice to see you again too, Yakushi~ It's been some time, hasn't it?" Her head tilted a bit to the side, her voice nothing but a whisper. "But come on, ol' Kabuto-kun, don't look so astonished. You didn't honestly think I wouldn't stop by to give you a few greetings, and a kind farewell _eventually_ , now, did you?" She chuckled lowly, barely heard over the steady snoring of all the kids a distance from them. "Especially not after that great idea of yours to use me as one of your precious tools for the war."

Behind the smirk her heavily veiled rage only heated at the expression she could barely make out on the ninja beneath her: An expression that seemed to hold nothing truly hostile or terrible there. If anything, only a hint of pure annoyance and very faint alarm were evident, but... she could not detect any familiar cold calculation, nor disgust. It was almost like seeing her face only evoked a reaction from him that he would give just any other person. Her grip around the blade tightened and she pressed down a bit harder until a thin line of blood trailed its way down the side of his neck.

"You look a bit too comfortable for my liking," she sneered. "I'll fix that soon enough."

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. It's the fact that you've found a comfortable place on top of me that I'm more curious about." Even in a slightly hushed whisper, Kabuto's voice managed to sound strangely monotone. "Though I really shouldn't be so surprised about this current circumstance either, should I?" His grip on her wrist remained, and he'd suddenly yanked at the rope around his other wrist. It didn't snap. Instead it glowed with strange color. "But I still have to ask of you: Be mindful of our surroundings, the sleeping children. I highly doubt they'd fancy waking up to the sounds of a strange woman attempting to kill me."

"Oh, who ever said anything about sounds? Loud sounds at least?" She snickered quietly. "And who ever said anything about 'attempting' to kill, hm?"

Kabuto ignored the comment shifting slightly with the weight on top of him, his mouth pressed in a deep frown. "If I'm not mistaken, Mitarashi, we both went our separate ways a little over a year ago and we placed the previous events behind us." There was a pause. "All of them."

"Oh, that's just adorable. Don't tell me you actually fooled yourself into believing that a little money and a brief talk over would keep me at bay forever, did you? Don't tell me you actually thought any of that would ever make up for what you did. And what you're doing _now_ ," she added. Her dancing eyes had narrowed.

"Apparently, I did" There was that familiar sarcastic tone of his again. Yet it lacked the bite it would've normally had. Barely noticeable, but easy to sense for Anko, and it was an insult. An insult.

She leaned down until her breath was ghosting over his ear. "That was called a rhetorical question, you bastard. Has all of this working so hard to erase the _real_ ,disgusting being you are caused you to ruin your actual brains in the process?" she cooed. There was no reply. Nothing. She could feel the hairs on every part of her body stand on end. He wasn't different, he wasn't suddenly some perfect, innocent angel now, not even a close thousandth place. He was the same. And she wouldn't let him get away, forget any of that fact.

She would remind him of who he'd really used to be; who he still was deep down on the very surface.

"I remember… How tightly that snake of yours wrapped around me. Ya know, just before I swore I was seeing the light from the lack of oxygen, I had the pleasure of witnessing you turn away from me to get back to your evil plans. As If I were truly worthless, nothing." Her mouth barely grazed his ear as she continued speaking into it. "Yet, you never killed me. Even when you had a chance, even after you were done using me. Funny how much things really haven't seemed to change after all, as much as you make it seem. It was almost just like back then... _before_ the war. You really had an unrelenting interest in me... Obsessive, really. Tell me if I'm mistaken," she hissed, leaning forward all the more until her body was practically completely atop his.

"Anko. Get off of me." That tone of voice again. The agonizingly reserved tone. She did recognize it. However this time, it finally held something different. Warning. Yet he was not putting up much of a fight. "I doubt the village would be happy if I were forced to kill you."

"But why? Kill me? Are you sure you would really, really want to?" She asked in a condescending voice as she took pleasure in the way his body had gone as rigid as a board, and took deeper pleasure in the warmth of the ear her sensitive lips felt as it only seemed to get warmer along with that side of his face that her nose brushed against. Again she felt that odd combination of satisfaction and disgust by his being. Not making a move to resist her, no fight, as if he wanted to keep the non-existent peace. It repulsed her.

But suddenly beneath her she felt a leg of his beginning to lift as he intended to use the limb as a spacer between his being and hers. His free hand still wrapped around her arm began pushing her back again, his lips a thin pierced line. With more weight to her advantage, Anko resisted.

"They say old habits die hard… and I figured, since you're gonna die anyway…" She'd lifted herself up slightly so she had room to move her arm. The tip of the kunai she held dragged away slowly from his neck to the edge of his sharp collar bone. It hadn't taken much pressure for the blade to cut through the very thin skin until she knew she'd hit the bone. She was confirmed of the fact when a quiet yet heavy growl met her left ear. The sight of the dark blood was almost captivating to her dark, wild eyes and the sight of the concealed pain mixed with a sudden sharp sting of nails digging viciously into the flesh of her wrist in response made her feel a small rush. To sober herself, she forced his rising leg down with her own legs and dragged the weapon further until its marking was drawn neatly completely across the length of the top of Kabuto's chest. More red splashed across her vision's canvas, giving her a recognizable buzzing feeling. Perhaps that wasn't her best solution to sharpening her focus. Her own drawling words replayed themselves in her clear, yet hazy mind.

 _And I figured…_

 _since you're gonna die anyway…_

"Might as well die alongside your screwed up ways." Her lips met the bloodied flesh as well as the warmth of the skin that contained unshed blood beneath it. There she tasted her desire for revenge, the desire to relive the banged up past, before it was all defeated by her very own hands. She smelt the familiar scent of him that she'd remembered on so many countless and obscured nights long ago. The familiar smell that had never failed in absolutely repulsing her and drawing her in it at the exact same time, leaving her craving more.

She was pretty aware of the periodic tugging that dully rocked the bed as the headboard strained against Kabuto's arm. She was somewhat aware of the arm that was eventually freed along with a grunt and a snap as the hand was lifted down from above his head, and she was fully aware of two now free hands that made contact with her body. Rough hands, that did not shove her away, that didn't strike her in any deadly pressure points, but hands that grabbed her excruciatingly tight with bruising force and yanked her forward. The familiarity was numbing. It was real. The feeling of being jerked closer almost recklessly, raw strength, pain. Fresh hot pain tingled down her exposed arms as nail tracts made the perfect trails for the oozing liquid that rushed down the limbs and collected at her wrists, eventually decorating the palms of his hands that had enclosed murderously tight around them. More burning tingles soon met the skin above her ribs, dragging and damaging like miniature knives, reaching her back, tearing dangerous layers of the skin. With her wrists free again, and the feeling coming back to her hands, Anko had rested the kunai against his throat once more. The pressure of the blade increased as the man moved forward slightly, daring her, almost sitting up.

"Have it your way, then," she heard a sharp, patronizing tone hum in her ear; the same tone she'd always heard back then. Hearing it again didn't lessen the chill that the words held.

Pushing the knife down further, to the point where more appliance wouldve fatally sliced, she shoved Kabuto back down and slid the weapon's handle onto her thumb. Deadly fingers tangled themselves in light grey locks, sparingly taking only several rooted strands with them. Suddenly, a warm slightly damp hand was wrapped gently around the front of her neck, and she knew he was both taking in her pulse, all the while conveying a threat. It squeezed and her leg detangled itself from both of his own to knee him devastatingly in the gut. His grip loosened ever so slightly as he let out a quiet, choked sound. A starving tongue in need of even more blood ran across his clenched, red teeth and was soon met with the taste of her own when the teeth nearly caught and gnashed it right off. The iron filled her mouth, and to ease the throbbing her tongue swiped across the slightly scaly surface of his cheek. The high that hit her wasn't enough to keep her from smashing a forearm against his adam's apple in retaliation, enjoying the feel of a speeding pulse underneath it even as his loose grip around her neck remained. Her own heart continued to speed in her chest as the heat of their bodies mingled and the pain was exchanged back and forth like a tango of promised death, half-suppressed memories, things forgotten, things broken and things partially avenged.

Harsh warmth ran its way down the arm of hers that wasn't pressing the life from him. The palm of his hand left tingles as it finally met her own hand. Their bloody fingers intertwined as quiet breathing was the only thing that accompanied their silence. A chocked sound that was spurred by the feeing of three of her fingers snapping unnaturally backwards died in her throat. Just like it always used to. Like old times. She'd had plenty of practice with her self-control. Her blurred vision caught sight of dark eyes so close to her face. The eyes that were clouded over with mere annoyance and alarm before now gave way to unveiled anger, hunger and denial all in one. There was more there that she was not able to figure out.

But this was part of the real Kabuto Yakushi she'd remembered. And it appeared Kabuto had finally remembered as well... or had at least stopped pretending to have forgotten. There was no such thing as forgetting, moving on. No such thing as _'changing'._

Her right forearm remained pressed against his windpipe, his single hand still wrapped now far much tighter around her throat. She found herself desiring air, and yet wanting to stay like this just a bit longer. It seemed Kabuto was feeling the same, and for the first time in years, it was as if the sick part's their minds had reconnected once more, if only for an impossible moment.

Because she hadn't forgotten those memories of years past. And she hadn't forgotten the most recent one's either. Yes, three of the five fingers of her left hand were indeed broken. But with it being her dominant hand, two fingers was still more than enough to grip the weapon and drive it into the desired area as she still laid almost completely against him.

No, there was no such thing as forgetting, moving on. No such thing as 'changing'.

But yes, vengeance would forever be a legit thing.

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 **When I wrote this I just knew there had to be something out there like it, but I saw nothing. Why ain't there barely any Kabuto and Anko stuff in this here Naruto fandom? It took me writing this story (Which I had no idea would turn out the way it did) to realize I would actually ship this here pairin'. What a shame it don't have much attention D:**


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